Storybook
by Imma Kiwi Bird
Summary: [R&R, please] [collection of drabbles] Like almost every day, a woman settles down in an armchair with a book, ready to tell the children a story... [hints of: RonHermione, HarryGinny, NevilleLuna]
1. Introduction

**Imma Kiwi Bird:** Well. Here's this little collection of drabble-esque ficcys that are based on a set of 100 prompts my friend sent me through eMail..This takes place YEARS after whatever happens in Book 7 (OMG WHAT HAPPENS?!); everyone already has kids, yaddi yadda... and, someone is telling the little kids a story..

Also, uhh... hints of Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, and Neville/Luna. Mm'kay.

PS - this is based on some prompts my friend sent me in an eMail.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_; JK Rowling does.

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**Storybook**

Introduction

The woman settled down in the soft armchair, an old, leather-bound book set on her lap. Seven children bounded over, chatting excitedly and plopping themselves onto the maroon Indian rug that occupied most of the room's floor. They talked animatedly; arguing over what story they wanted the woman to tell, or about what they hoped their aunt would make for dinner that night. The seven kids stopped speaking abruptly when the woman in the chair raised a wand. With a flick of her wrist, the tome resting on her lap rose into the air and flipped open to a blank page.

The kids looked confused, glancing at each other.

"Auntie," one child with messy black hair started, pointing up at the floating book, "Why is it blank?" Indeed, with small swishes of her wand, the woman had revealed that the whole book was empty; no words, no pictures. She smiled at the young girl.

"That's because, today, we are going to be making the story ourselves..." With a tap of her wands, cursive words appeared on the top of the first page in the book.

_Introduction_


	2. Love

**Imma Kiwi Bird:** Well. Second part out

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_; JK Rowling does.

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**Storybook**

Love

"Well," The woman smiled at the seven children around her, pushing bushy brown hair behind her shoulder. She flicked the wand again, and words began to sink into the yellowing pages of the floating book. Another swish of her wrist, and the book glided in front of her. She began to read.

"Not to long ago, in the 1990s-"

"We weren't even born then!" Interrupted a young girl with dirty blonde hair, glaring up at the woman who was reading to her.

"I know. But, let me continue.

"Anyway, in those times, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was still terrorizing everyone," A few of the children shivered, glancing at each other warily. "Well, even though the thought of him getting a loved one was very, very hard to forget, people still loved. They loved one another probably more than they ever had, and ever will."

_Hermione let out a contented sigh, watching as Ron's brother Bill kissed his (half-veela) bride. She turned her head ever-so-slightly to the left, looking at Ron out of the corner of her eye. He noticed she was looking at him quickly, mouthing, "What?" Hermione turned bright red, looking back at the newlyweds. She heard Ron sigh in annoyance, but she didn't look at him straight in the face until after the wedding._

_When Hermione finally had to face Ron at the rather large food station, she wrapped him into a tight hug. "Love you," she declared, words muffled because she had her face buried in his shirt. Ron was startled for a second at the sudden announcement of he love, but he hugged her back, a rather large grin on his face._

"_Love you to, Hermione."_

The woman tapped the air with her wand, and a page in the book turned. "People were marrying left and right! Some said it was hasty, but I think they were just overwhelmed by all the love in the air." The woman let out a rather girlish giggle, and the four young girls on the rug joined in, smiling at each other and the storyteller. The three boys faked vomiting; one, a boy with flaming red hair that was sprawled out on the floor, imitated convulsing and dying dramatically.

"Well, to the story..." All seven kids straightened up to listen as the woman watched more words appear on the page. "Now, You-Know-Who was murdering people all the time. People began getting hasty to protect their loved ones; wanting nothing more than to keep them out of harm's way. Some got a little over excited, though."

_Luna watched over her magazine as Neville finished the note quickly, trembling as he attached the note to a tawny owl's leg. The owl screeched and nipped at him, and he jumped back with a start. The owl spread its wings, looking disgruntled. Neville petted its back, slowly, and then opened the window so it could take off. Once the tawny had disappeared from view, Neville turned around._

_Luna raised an eyebrow, setting the newest issue of Witch Weekly down. "Was that another letter to Hermione about Protection Charms?" She asked him breathlessly, as if scolding a small child for drawing on the wall. Neville turned pink._

"_Uhh... yeah." Luna sighed, closing her eyes. She stood up, grabbing her magazine in the process._

"_Well, Neville. I can thank you for the thought," Luna told him gently, stroking the side of his face. She floated off down the hall, knowing she had made Neville turn the color of a ripe tomato._

The woman smiled at a boy and a girl who were sitting together, watching her with wide eyes. The girl, whose long, blonde hair was hanging loosely around her face, turned to the boy; whose short, brown hair contrasted with her own; and whispered something into his ear. Her turned red, and shook his head.

Another tap of a wand, and another page turned.

"On the other hand, some had decided that abandoning their love was the only way to protect the ones they cherished the most."

_Ginny nodded once more, turning to face forward. Harry looked up at the covered body of their dead headmaster, feeling very sorry for himself. He was pitiful; he knew Ginny could handle the 'pressure', but he wouldn't feel right putting it on her. He really hoped he had chosen his path correctly._

_Besides; Voldemort did go after all of his loved ones. His father, mother, Sirius, and Dumbledore were all the dead proofs of that._

_When he stood up to take a walk, Harry made sure his hand brushed against Ginny's._

"Well," the woman pushed some wavy bangs from her face. "I think that's a good story for today." The waved her wand, and the large, no-longer-empty book slammed shut and fell to the floor beside her large armchair. All seven kids on the rug groaned. One, a boy who seemed to resemble the storyteller, piped up.

"But... can't we here more?"

The woman smiled. "Not today, honey. Not today. Now; off to bed. All of you!"


	3. Light

**Imma Kiwi Bird:** Okay; I think I'll just get this outta the way... I don't have my own computer. _Yet_. I'll be getting one sometime in July. So, until that time, the updates on this story won't have any kind of update patter; like, no weekly updates or every two days, etc. BUT: When I get my new laptop, I'll be able to dish out more drabble-like things for j00

Another thing: This installment, and the next, were KIND of hard to do. I was debating on making them all angsty, but... I decided against it.

Also, Celeste is such a popular name for a daughter of two... certain people. x3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_; JK Rowling does.

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**Storybook**

Light

The woman frowned as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, carrying the book back into the reading room. This time, three girls followed behind her. One girl with semi-long red hair and bright, green eyes was talking with a girl with messy, shoulder-length black hair; a girl with reddish-brown hair was holding onto her sleeve as they walked to the living room.

"I can't believe Adam fell asleep!" The girl with reddish-brown hair suddenly cried, stomping her foot on the rug before she threw herself to the ground. "And Johnny is, too!"

"I know!" Both of the other girls whined as well, settling down beside her.

The black haired girl piped up. "_TELL_ me about it! Even Celessy and Chris are asleep!"

The woman spoke up. "Adeline! Nanette! Linora! QUIET!" The three girls silenced at once, staring up at their storyteller with wide, frightful eyes. She attempted to smile, but as far as she knew, she failed.

"I want to start the story," The woman told them, now smiling down on them as she pulled out her wand. A flick, a swish, and a tap made the book suspend itself in midair, open up, and turn to the right page.

_Hermione had just told her parents she was to be married to Ron Weasley. They had been so proud that their daughter was going to be wed, that they had taken her and Ron out and treated them to an Italian dinner that had lasted three hours. Three hours of eating, talking, getting and eating dessert, talking, and more talking._

_Hermione stepped outside, an old jam jar in her hands. Unscrewing the lid, Hermione stepped out into the garden and waited to see specks of light._

_She spotted one; near the rosebush._

_Tongue between her teeth, Hermione began to creep closer and closer towards the bush, holding out the jar as if ready to catch something. Just as she was going to close in on a small speck of golden fire, the whole area was illuminated in white light. Hermione cursed loudly and turned to see Ron standing on the patio, his wand held up. The white light was coming from his wand._

"_Ronald!" Hermione cried out in a whiney voice, stomping her foot on the ground in mock anger. Ron looked at her, obviously confused._

"_Put it out!" Ron mouthed an 'Oh' and then put out his wand light. He stepped off the patio and headed towards Hermione, who had turned her back to him and continued her hunting._

"_What are you doing?" He asked her loudly; although anyone speaking would seem loud in the calm silence of the countryside. She turned and shushed him._

"_I'm catching fireflies," Hermione whispered, a small smile on her lips. She turned and held the lid over the opening._

_Ron watched Hermione move around the whole garden; stalking flickering lights and attempting to catch them. After what seemed like ages of watching, Ron let out a sigh and stretched. He bent down to massage his right leg, which had fallen asleep._

"_Well; are ya done?" He asked in an annoyed tone. Just then, she closed the jar for real; screwing it shut. A large grin on her face, Hermione held it behind her back as she bounced up in front of him._

_Standing up straight, Ron looked down at Hermione. "What?" he asked her, the curiosity obvious in his voice._

"_Bottled light," Hermione said in a barely audible voice, holding up the jar between them. Ron look from Hermione to the jar, and let out a little gasp._

_It really was bottled light; little golden specks were flying around the jar lazily, flickering occasionally. He looked up to see Hermione smiling at him. He smiled back and leaned in to kiss her._

The girl with red-brown hair raised her hand. "What, Linora?" The woman acknowledged, slightly angry. She had been rather irritable today; and these three girls were not helping.

"Will you show us firebugs sometime?"

"Yes."

_Harry held up the lantern higher, wrapping an arm around Ginny's shoulders as they headed up a hill. It had been Ginny who had suggested a hike to a place he, himself, had never been; but he trusted her, so he had agreed. It had also been Ginny who had wanted to use this Muggle way of producing light._

_Harry smiled down at Ginny, and she looked up and smiled as well. Harry looked back up at the small flame in the lantern, and noticed it was going out. He stopped, pulled out his wand, and muttered an incantation to keep the fire burning._

_He and Ginny continued hiking._

"_Harry, how does the lantern continue to give light?" Ginny suddenly asked. Harry shrugged._

"_Normally, you use oil as fuel to keep it going." He responded, staring at the lantern again. Ginny looked at the lantern as well, a thoughtful look on her face. Shadows cast by the orange light dance around on her face, making her seem very much like she was one of the fire herself. Suddenly, Ginny grinned widely, pushing away from Harry and reaching for the lantern. Harry let her take it._

"_You know," Ginny began, starting to walk ahead, "I think I like this kind of light."_

Just as the woman finished her story, a boy with short, brown hair sauntered into the room slowly. He yawned, wrapping a blanket covered in Golden Snitches around himself tightly. "Am I too late?" He asked sadly, standing a foot or so from the doorway. The woman smiled.

"No, no, no, Christopher. Come on; sit down," Christopher nodded, reddening in the face as he sat down beside Linora. Linora sniffed, frowning at his blanket. She didn't think very highly of Quidditch.

"Is Celessy still napping?" The black haired girl asked, looking at Chris. He nodded, shifting his position so he could lay belly-down on the ground.

The woman continued her story.

"_Neville, you were supposed to get Ever-Lasting Fire," Luna said slowly as Neville entered the living room, carrying two butterbeers. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Luna smiled at him, ignoring his confused face as he approached the couch, arms holding butterbeer limply at his side._

"_I was?"_

"_Yes." She rocked the brown-haired toddler in her arms, humming. Neville's mouth closed and he frowned, sitting beside Luna and handing her a butterbeer. Neville opened his own bottle, and took a long drink._

"_I forgot."_

"_Of course you did." Luna replied, smiling from her husband to the boy who resembled him. Neville's expression when from sad to pathetic._

"_Why did we need it anyway?"_

"_Well, he has a Herb-Devouring Fushackner in your garden; and light keeps them away."_

_Neville processed this information, ignoring the obviously bogus claim of something that devours herbs. "But... if light repels the Fushackners, then couldn't we just put a light out on the porch?"_

_Luna stared at him blankly._

"_I mean, uhh... they give off light too," Neville said hastily, scratching the back of his neck._

"_That's true..."_

"And that's why we must remember light is not a side you choose, opposed to the Dark Side; but it is also something that can illuminate your life, path, and," The woman smiled knowingly at Christopher, "Your garden."

With more flicks of her wand, the woman closed the book. She smiled down at the four children, no longer feeling irritable. "Well; it isn't time to go to bed. Why don't we have some hot chocolate and some butterbeer?"

All four children let out loud 'Yays!' as they scrambled up and headed towards the kitchen. The woman stood, holding the book. Walking to a overfilled bookshelf, she set it on the very top and then headed out of the reading room as well.


	4. Dark

**Imma Kiwi Bird:** Remember; I won't be updating in a specific schedule. xD OH. I got my _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ ticket today! I couldn't go at midnight on the 10th (damn my mother), so I'm going at the earliest I could on the 11th! Nine-thirty. I also got a bunch of HP merchandise from Hot Topic. I love it all. x3

I plan to get either three or four chapters out by the time the movie is released. So; you can look forward to that. 3 I'll name off what those chapters would be:

_Seeking Solace_

_Break Away_

_Heaven_

_Innocence_

Okay; well... I'll leave ya'll here. 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_; JK Rowling does.

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**Storybook**

Dark

The next day, there was no story from their normal storyteller. She had fallen ill, and had gone to St. Mungo's to see if there was anything seriously wrong with her. Her husband had left with her, telling the other four adults in the house he thought he knew what was wrong. He left the house with a smug grin, obviously proud. One woman with red hair and another with blonde had chatted for hours on end about what was happening, while the two men still at the home conversed about Quidditch.

Throughout the whole time, seven children pestered them about their normal story time until finally, the woman with sweeping red hair cracked and announced that she would get them some butterbeer and read them their cursed story. All four girls and three boys cheered and scurried off to the reading room.

The red-haired woman come in, the butterbeers floating midair in front of her wand. With a flick, the frothy drinks floated down into outstretch hands. The woman sat down in the squishy armchair, the leather-bound book floating before her. The other woman, the blonde, came striding in slowly, taking a seat on the ground behind Christopher.

"Okay... let's see where the baby-popper left off..." The red-haired woman began, tapping the pages to make them turn. The blonde let out a watery giggle, a small smile on her lips as her friend started the story.

_Neville leaned over the table, squirting the rare plant with pesticide to rid of the, of course, pests that tried to live on it. He frowned heavily, straightening back up and stretching._

_He was in his greenhouse's greenhouse; a place he stored either rare or special plants, or plants sensitive to the light. Indeed, he was tending to a rare American Moonbouh, which was so sensitive to light it needed to live in utter darkness. So, here he was, in the dark; his wand in one hand, and a can of pesticide in the other._

_Neville turned to leave when the greenhouse door flew open. Luna stood in the doorway, looking flustered. Neville yelped, trying to shield his precious American Moonbouh, but it was too late. The plant started to take on a burnt look on the leaves, and the bud in the center opened and started letting out a nasty gas with an even worse stench._

"_Close the door!" Neville yelled, storming past Luna and pushing her aside. He slammed the greenhouse's greenhouse door shut, glaring at Luna and crossing his arms._

_She didn't glare back, only continued to look flustered._

"_Neville-"_

"_Luna, you _know _that the American Moonbouh needs to be in COMPLETE darkness or else it starts to die!" He said angrily. Luna looked at the door, which her husband and stormed through and shut, before looking back at him._

"_That's where it happened, actually. In the dark."_

"_What?" Neville felt his anger dwindle at this odd comment. He stared at Luna, wondering what was going on in her head._

"_I'm pregnant again; and that's where it happened. In the dark." Luna responded bluntly, rocking back and forth on her heels. She took to gazing at all of Neville's plants, ignoring her stammering husband._

"_You... are... what? How... the dark?" Neville slumped, staring at her. She turned to him, smiling._

"_Go on back into the dark. I'll be inside."_

The blonde haired woman grinned, staring at the little blonde girl who was sitting next to Christopher. Chris whispered something to her, and the little girl turned to look at the woman.

"I don't like plants as much as Chris." She said bluntly, making said Christopher to slump down and look quite sad. The woman smiled.

"I know, Celeste."

The red-haired storyteller took a swig of her own butterbeer, and a few children followed suit. She then tapped the pages a few times before beginning the story again.

_They were kissing in the dark. The dark because no light could reach them. Why, you may ask? Because they happened to be in a goddamned closet. The reason for this was because Ginny's brother was on a ruthless search to find Harry, and they just couldn't have that, could they? The passion was far to high right now, and the two lovers would not have it interrupted._

_Ginny pulled away from Harry, suddenly very quiet. Harry was about to continue kissing her when he stopped as well. Footsteps were echoing outside in the hallway, and by the voices that accompanied them, it was Ron on patrol with his mother._

_Harry cursed, fumbling to find his glasses. Sliding them up his nose, he straightened out his shirt and helped Ginny find her headband. It was hard to find it in the dark, and neither would try a Lumos charm in fear of being found. After finding and pushing the headband on her head Ginny attempted to calm herself. She was aware she had to be very, very, very flushed, because-_

_The closet door opened, and there stood Mrs. Weasley, Ron towering behind her. Ron grimaced, and Mrs. Weasley's mouth hung open at the sight of her daughter and not-yet-husband crammed into a dark cupboard._

"_What were you doing in there?" Mrs. Weasley asked, cleverly masking the dangerous tone in her voice. Harry and Ginny dared to look at each other while Ginny answered._

"_We were talking in the dark. It's fun. Do it with dad sometime." Mrs. Weasley turned as red as her hair and she turned, knocking into Ron. Apologizing, she left down the hall, mumbling to herself. Ron raised an eyebrow, leaning on the doorframe._

"_Talking in the dark," He said simply, grinning at his sister. She glared back._

_He turned and followed his mother's trail. He stopped at the top of the stairs._

"_And, by the way, Ginny; your face is redder than a tomato; I could see that even though you were in the dark. Use a charm to fix it, alright?" And he went down the stairs._

The woman telling the story ended the chapter quite red in the face, glancing at her blonde companion. Her friend sighed and stood, as did the temporary storyteller. The blonde took the red-haired woman's spot, and the red-haired one said she was going to fetch some treacle fudge. The blonde woman then began the story quickly.

_Hermione frowned up at the ceiling, eyes darting back and forth nervously. She gripped the arm of her sleeping husband, letting out a whimper as a shadow danced on their wall. She let out a raspy breath when he didn't even stir in his slumber._

_Hermione turned over, but she still gripped Ron's arm. She nearly let out a cry when more shadows began to clamber over each other and the wall before her. She turned over quickly again, snuggling up against Ron's side. He smiled slightly in his sleep, but otherwise did nothing. Hermione frowned, touching her forehead to his._

"_Ronald?" She asked quietly, but she got no response. She repeated his name again, yet, once more, she got nothing. Hermione braced herself before yelling his name loudly in his ear._

"_RONALD!"_

_He woke up with a jolt, wide eyes staring at her. After a moment, he settled back into the bed and stared at his wife._

"_What?"_

"_The..." Oh dear; what if he thought she was weak? What if he told her it was nothing to worry about, and to just go back to sleep?_

"_Well?"_

_Hermione closed her eyes and said, "I'm afraid of the dark."_

_When there was a silence, she opened her eyes to see Ron looking sympathetically at her._

"_Oh," Hermione's eyes widened. He wasn't making fun of her?_

"_You don't find it... funny?"_

"_Not at all, Hermione. I'm afraid of spiders; I can't make fun of you for being scared of the dark." Hermione let out a sigh of relief, draping an arm over his chest and resting her head on his shoulder._

"_I... want to sleep close until we get used to this house, okay, Ron?" She said quietly, eyes closing. She felt him nod._

The blonde woman finished the story with a content sigh, flicking her wand to make the book slam shut. Seven children began to talk about that night's story.

They went silent when their normal storyteller entered the room, a tall man with bright, fiery hair resting an arm over her shoulders. She smiled at the blonde woman, and it was like the blonde knew what the brunette was thinking, because the blonde said, "Congratulation on number four."

She stood and left the room, and the seven kids began to bombard their storyteller with questions regarding why she had been gone.


	5. Seeking Solace

**Imma Kiwi Bird:** Now; I got my new computer! Not a laptop, sadly, but a computer with Vista none the less. Yay. I love me some Vista. Now, back to the point: This chapter was a bit hard to write and get out, so if you're disappointed, I won't be surprised. I had to do a bit of thinking on this chapter; but, with the previous, they flowed right out of my fingertips. But, at least I've updated. A little later than I had hoped, but I still did it, right?

PS - Did ya'll have a nice 4th of July?

PPS - For this installment, I've decided to try something… different-ish.

PPPS – I think my goal of three or four installments out by the time the movie is released won't be achieved.

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling is the wonderful goddess that owns and created Harry Potter; I am but a loyal fan writing fanfiction.

Vista is copyright of Bill Gates. Rich bastard.

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**Storybook**

Seeking Solace

"Do you think something's wrong?" Christopher asked, looking worried as he tried to keep up with the other six children that he was playing Quidditch with. Celeste paused, staring at him blankly.

"What do you mean?" She questioned, and everyone else paused the game as well. Christopher flushed at having six faces staring at him for answers and the question _he _had asked. He was sure that when you asked a question, it was supposed to be somebody else giving you the answer.

"Uhh… I mean, she hasn't been telling us our story very much lately… and…"

"He's right," the girl with red-brown hair chimed, looking up into the sun, eyes narrowed, "Sometimes, we only get to hear our story once a week."

"Then we need to go in now and make her tell us the story!" Concluded Adeline, making it seem as if she had solved all their problems _and_ discovered a way to bring someone back to life through magic. Now six pairs of eyes were on her, yet she seemed unfazed. She pointed to the door of the house. "Let's go!"

So they did.

When they had convinced their beloved storyteller to settle into the cushioned armchair and tell them the next chapter of their story, they bounced off into the reading room to allow her to finish her conversation with the blonde woman and the black-haired man. Moments later, she came in, hand resting on her belly. She lowered herself into the armchair, and then raised her wand. With a fluid motion, the large book resting on the highest bookshelf came flying lazily towards her.

She opened the book manually this time, a small sigh escaping her lips. The seven children before her began to murmur excitedly; they hadn't heard their story in a long time, and they were quite glad that she had taken time to read it to them now.

"Well; do you know what solace is?" The woman began, smiling at them. They all shook their heads. "Well; it's comfort. And I know you all know what that is." This time, the seven nodded. She nodded as well, as if content in proving a point.

"Well, since you all know what solace is…"

_**Men hate funerals more than women do. It**__**'**__**s the truth. Women may cry their eyes out at the loss of a loved one, but that**__**'**__**s because they are crying for the deceased; now because they are at a funeral. Funerals are dreary places to be; all black, save for flowers, and pure sadness hangs in the air, suffocating happiness from people. Even when someone is talking about the dead, and they mention something funny he or she used to do, the laughter that echoes isn**__**'**__**t even real; it**__**'**__**s hollow.**_

_**Men hate funerals because they make them uncomfortable. They have to watch women cry; and that is painful to watch.**_

_**Men hate funerals because they feel like they shouldn**__**'**__**t. They**__**'**__**re supposed to be honored to be invited to someone**__**'**__**s funeral, aren**__**'**__**t they? But they despise the damned things.**_

_**Men are probably more complicated then women; they**__**'**__**re made out to be perverted bastards only looking to get into a girl**__**'**__**s pants. But, when you think about it, there are some women who are looking to get into a man**__**'**__**s pants. Also, there are women who hate funerals. There are women who think exactly like men. Those rare few happen to be those who get along with men, acting as if they, themselves, are a man.**_

_**But nonetheless, men work in strange ways. Their minds work like an artist; maybe going for a lighter picture, or a darker one. Maybe a flourish, maybe a simple dot; it all depends on what strikes them as the best movement to finish their masterpiece.**_

_**Women, on the other hand, work like a machine. They have mood swings that are bound to happen, and they expect to be consoled whenever they get down. They are expected to seek solace in those they trust when the going gets rough, and they live up to those expectations, don**__**'**__**t they? But what about the men? They feel as much as we women do, yet we make **_**them**_** speak softly to us; make them tell us it**__**'**__**s all right. But for once, let**__**'**__**s stop and think about how men tick, and let us think about how they need solace as much as we do-**_

_Ginny let out an exasperated sigh. Frowning heavily as she set down the quill and pushed the parchment away from her. She was writing a collaborated book with Hermione and Luna, and so far, she hadn__'__t been able to put much into the book. She was able to explain how men think, because she just plain understood them, but other than that, nothing. Truth be told, it was Hermione who put the most effort into the book. Luna would go over each finished chapter and add small details that made the manuscript more interesting; gave the book appeal._

_But Hermione did all the work, yet she insisted she would have it be called collaborated during publishing. Oh, yes; it had already been approved to be mass produced by _Witch Weekly_, and that was good._

_Ginny__'__s pondering on her lame writing stopped when Hermione entered the room, looking distressed. Ginny__'__s frown grew, and she stood up._

"_What__'__s wrong?__"__ She asked, not moving from her spot, but watching Hermione walk over to the table and sit. Hermione shook her head, sniffing slightly._

"_It__'__s__…__ its Ronald; he__'__s being too quiet,__"__ Hermione answered staring at the parchment Ginny had written on. Letting out a sad sigh, she reached out and grabbed the paper and began to read it. As she read, she spoke again, __"__I think something__'__s wrong. I may have gone to far when I said no sex for three months__…"__ Ginny laughed loudly, and Hermione joined in half-heartedly._

_As she read the small amount of writing, Hermione__'__s eyes slowly widened; as if she were coming to a realization. She set the parchment on the table, staring at Ginny. Ginny shrugged._

"_I know; it__'__s not that good.__"__ She says, again thinking about how she was a terrible writer._

"_No,__"__ Hermione says, awe in her voice, __"__It__'__s brilliant__…__ I think__…"__ Hermione stood up abruptly, running from the room and leaving the text behind. Ginny watched, slightly dazed. She snatched up her writing and scanned over it._

_And that was the point when Luna Lovegood sauntered in, looking as equally distressed as Hermione had. Ginny sighed, and then spoke, __"__What__'__s wrong?__"_

"_One of Neville__'__s plants died,__"__ Luna replied, taking up the chair Hermione had occupied moments before. Luna__'__s gaze turned from Ginny to the painting of the fourth year Yule Ball. __"__Actually, I killed one of his plants. I guess it must have been special, because he__'__s really down now.__"__ Luna continued to stare at the painting as Ginny looked at her text. After a moment of contemplation, she thrust the parchment into Luna__'__s hand and ordered her to read._

_Moments after Luna finished reading, she, too, gave Ginny her paper back and rushed from the room. Ginny leaned back in her chair, a smug grin on her face. This was getting kind of satisfying, really__…_

_Again, her thoughts were interrupted as someone else entered. But this time, it wasn__'__t a distressed female walking through the door, it was a distressed male. Harry._

"_What__'__s wrong?__"__ Ginny asked hurriedly, the paper falling from her hands and floating top the ground. Harry doesn__'__t look at her as he settles into the chair that had lost too many sitters in less than ten minutes._

_Then, suddenly, Harry buries his face in his hands and says that Remus Lupin is dying and that he needs to leave that moment. Ginny gasps, covering her mouth with her hands._

"_What?__"_

"_He was poisoned. The Healers think it was the same stuff that killed Garland Hoffscotch.__"_

_Ginny wiped away a tear that leaked out of her eye, and looked at her hands. Then, her gaze settled on her writing. Some of it was visible from up here__…_

_**But for once, let**__**'**__**s stop and think about how men tick, and let us think about how they need solace as much as we do-**_

_Ginny looked up at Harry. She rested a hand on his shoulder. __"__It__'__s okay; we__'__ll go there now,__"__ She said, and Harry looked up. He wasn__'__t crying, but his face was pale. Ginny almost cringed, but she stopped herself and stood. She helped Harry out of his chair, and then headed to the fire. Floo powder would be the quickest way to go and they needed to get there fast._

_Ginny glanced back at Harry. He was staring into the flames, green eyes unfocused. Ginny looked back at the parchment on the ground, then back to Harry._

…_**how they need solace as much as we do-**_

"_Harry, before we go, I need to ask you something.__"__ Harry looked up as she spoke. He nodded, signaling her to go on._

"_Do you need solace?__"_

_Harry probably didn__'__t exactly know what that meant, but he nodded anyway and let Ginny envelop him in a tight, warm hug._

The leather-bound book slammed shut and floated back up to its perch on the top of the tallest bookshelf. Seven children watched the tome float off, and then looked back at their storyteller.

"That's a pretty word," Adeline said quietly, pushing cropped black hair behind her ears. "'Solace'."

Murmurs of agreement met her words, and the storyteller looked content.

"Well," she began, "Let that story be a lesson to you. Help those who need comfort more than you do first; you can focus on yourself later. Now; I have to get back to the kitchen. I need to help make dinner-"

She was cut off by the girl who resembled herself, "What are we having?"

The storyteller looked disgruntled at being cut off, but she answered the young boy anyway: "I don't know. But you lot better steer away from the kitchen while we cook! This is your _only_ warning."

Seven children giggled and watch their storyteller leave the room.


	6. Break Away

**Imma Kiwi Bird:** Yays. The next part of _Storybook_ is now OUT! Okay; well, I was looking at how I've been updating, and how there are 100 parts to this challenge, and I thought: "OH MY GOD, this will take a long time." Now, I don't know if there is another 100-chaptered story on but if there is, I now worship how they were able to get through so many chapters.

I promise this story will not go on hiatus. I promise I will get it done as soon as I can.

-Imma Kiwi Bird

PS – This was also a VERY hard chapter to work on. I am again taking the 'combine all three pairings' in this chapter, and putting a kind of humorous view on the matter. Also, this is… a lot shorter than most chapters, I think.

PPS – I'm actually fairly disappointed with this chapter, but it was kind of hard to do. My bad.

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter_ and all its characters belong to JK Rowling, goddess of all.

* * *

**Storybook**

Break Away

A boy with bright red hair jogged down the hall, jumping through the doorway at the end and into the reading room. Soon, the boy resembling the storyteller and the storyteller herself followed, and the rest of the children followed. Sitting in her armchair, the storyteller waved her wand lazily and the leather-covered book soared from the top of the bookshelf and opened before her.

"I think we'll talk about something different today," She said, tapping a faded page with her wand. Words began to appear at the tip.

"What will we hear, then?" The boy who has came in with her asked.

Smiling, she replied, "Adam, we are going to talk about cooking."

_**Break away the red parts from the pink, and add the pink to the boiling pot of soup-**_

_Ginny growled, dropping the red and pink ball of 'meat' onto the table. She had been told to get this odd, rare meat from some foreign country and prepare it by 'breaking away' the different colored parts. So far, she hadn't done very well._

_Ginny Weasley is not a good cook. Her husband, on the other hand, is, which infuriates her. The woman is supposed to be the marvelous cook who can bribe her husband for anything with his favorite soup, or with a divine desert. Sadly, though, she had not gotten her mother's great cooking skills. And she could only assume the reason Harry could cook was because those wretched Dursleys had made him cook for their fat boy._

_Hermione and Luna came in, asking how her cooking was going._

"_Not very well, thank you!" Ginny snapped, resisting the urge to pick up the nasty meat and chuck it at the two. Luna smiled lazily and Hermione shrugged, frowning._

"_I can only assume you haven't used your wand to separate the meat," Hermione said smugly, watching as realization dawned on Ginny's face. Ginny immediately turned and grabbed her wand, and began to separate the red and pink with her wand. It worked perfectly._

_About three hours later, the large pot of soup was finished and was charmed to float midair outside. In the Weasley garden, a _very_ long table had been set up to accommodate a large amount of Weasley's, an extra Lovegood, and Neville's grandmother. Throw in the wives and husbands of a few people, and you have quite a throng of people._

_The pot was charmed again to float in the middle of the table, and then charmed once more to refill on its own. Ginny settled down beside Harry, who was chatting with Ron and Neville, and waited for her mother to silence everyone._

_Silence did happen once Mrs. Weasley yelled at everyone, and then she began to distribute soup._

_Once everyone had their fill, they began to eat._

_Actually, Ron had burnt his hands by accepting a dare from his two twin brothers (it was to keep a hold on one of their firecrackers until it went out), so Hermione had to feed his soup to him. She kept blushing furiously, taking nervous glances at everyone after she lifted a spoon to his open mouth. Ronald, meanwhile, was grinning widely every time the twins glowered in his direction; in his mind, he had actually won the bet._

_Once kids were sent to bed, the twins brought out firewhiskey and everyone began to drink._

_And Neville, being extremely prone to getting drunk far too early, had to be escorted home by Luna. Before he left, he made an exceptionally dirty suggestion to his wife, who merely shook her head and ignored the surprised looks on people's faces. When they were far enough to joint-Apparate, Luna silenced Neville's loud singing of a Muggle Christmas carol before they left with an echoing 'POP'._

_Soon later, everyone left. As Ginny and Harry walked towards the safe-to-Apparate zone, he spoke up._

"_Ginny, that was good."_

_Ginny smiled at him, replying, "All you have to do is break away the red parts from the pink parts and-"_

_She was silenced with a kiss._

Three boys stared up at their storyteller blankly, while four girls talked about how much they wanted to try cooking. The storyteller grinned at the boys, leaning down to tell them that they would be going to Diagon Alley that weekend. Just them and her. Grinning, the three boys quickly left the reading room.

"I want to learn how to cook!" Celeste announced, and the other three voiced their agreements. The storyteller smiled.

"Okay, then. I'll pick up a simple cookbook from Diagon Alley for you."


	7. Heaven

**Imma Kiwi Bird:** Again, I have decided to combine all three pairings into one. And, truthfully, I don't know if wizards have a God; so I decided they don't.

Sorry it took so long to get this out; Deathly Hallows has put me into a deep depression. xD

PS – This is more like an 'IN MEMORIAM' for everyone that died in the final _Harry Potter_ book. May you all rest in peace. Except for Fred. FRED IS NOT DEAD.

PPS – I now know I am way off in the children's names. But let's all forget the crapilouge.

PPPS – Was I the ONLY one who actually thought Hermione would be a baby-popper? Damn, Ginny. Oo

PPPPS – This isn't much of a… pairing installment. As I said; mostly an 'IN MEMORIAM' type thing.

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns the _Harry Potter_ series. All I am is still broken.

* * *

**Storybook**

Heaven

It was time for another story. Their storyteller was settling into the cushioned armchair, telling them that today's story would be rather different from the ones she had previously told them. She said that they would be told of a sad time; years ago; when some people they had loved dearly had passed on.

Seven children settled onto the carpet; mugs of butterbeer in their hands, and a plate of treacle fudge from Grandma set before them.

With a sad sigh, the storyteller manually opened the book and began reading.

_Harry couldn't believe how many funerals he had to attend._

_It was maddening._

_Everyone had to attend the Lupin's funerals, of course. And, death to them if they didn't attend Fred's. But Harry was really the only one who had to attend Colin Creevey's funeral; or the funeral for that girl from their year and their house that they didn't even remember. Noone had to go to so many funerals that they had become as depressed as they ever had been._

_It wasn't as bad as Sirius; no. That had torn him to parts._

_But this was close._

_Every time he went to a funeral, he made basically the same speech that only Muggles and Muggleborns could understand. He wished that the deceased had passed away without pain; that it had been quick. He wished that the one who had fallen was at ease; was alright with dying. He wished that the one who had died because of him was in Heaven; living it up with ancestors they missed, and having the best time of their lives._

_Now? Now it was the funeral for the new couple; the couple that had just had a son._

_The couple who had wanted their son to live freely and be who he wanted; let him live in a hate-free world._

_Nymphadora and Remus Lupin._

_He was standing up now; a knot in his throat as he tried to speak. He felt his stomach twist, and he was almost certain that this was the time he was going to crack._

_Hermione was crying heavily, leaning against Ron for support. Ron was stony faced; it was obvious he was fighting back his own tears. And Ginny was crying; but not sobbing. She tried giving him a smile from her seat, but she only succeeded in looking too pitiful to look at. Harry's gaze switched to Luna and Neville; Luna's face was quite blank, while Neville was looking thoroughly depressed. He remembered how when Lupin had been their DADA professor, he had been kind to Neville about his fear of Professor Snape and had helped him see the sight of Snape in his Grandmother's clothing._

_Something fun for everyone._

_Harry gulped, looking back to the two coffins side by side. He spoke. He told the usual; except, he put much more heart into it. He spoke of how the Marauders would be happy to have their Moony back; and that they would probably be pleased to welcome his wife into their circle._

_Finally, he got to the confusing part._

"_I hope they're okay; up there in Heaven," Harry paused to watch the confused looks that came across the faces of the witches and wizards that didn't know of Muggle customs. Hermione's bawling became more loud and rapid. Andromeda was suddenly engulfed by Hermione as she switched from Ron to Tonks' mother._

"_I bet they're having fun. Who wouldn't? The Marauders are all together again. I'd say they'd be happy to let Tonks in on all the fun."_

_Andromeda's crying became louder than Hermione's._

"_Well… I don't have much to say. I just hope they're in Heaven; that's all. I hope they're okay; and I hope they know that their son is fine. He may not have his parents, but he'll at least have a family that cares for him."_

_Andromeda's sobs became louder than anyone's Harry had ever heard. She latched onto Hermione as well, both crying loudly and freely._

_Ginny began sobbing lightly; she looked up at Harry, as if begging for him to come sit by her._

_Harry glanced at the two coffins once more, wished them a joyful time in Heaven, and then joined Ginny._

The storyteller acted rather odd after she finished the story. She closed the book, stood, and left the book on the chair instead of returning it to the shelf.

She left the room, leaving the seven children to drink their butterbeer and eat their fudge in silence.


End file.
